


The Westen Way

by paburke



Series: Shooting Trouble [2]
Category: Burn Notice
Genre: Attempted Kidnapping, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 02:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1210036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paburke/pseuds/paburke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie Westen is on his way home from school, complaining to his Uncle Mike about his horrible science teacher when his ride takes the wrong turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Westen Way

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Français available: [La Façon Westen](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1743293) by [XaviaAndromedovna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/XaviaAndromedovna/pseuds/XaviaAndromedovna)



Charlie Westen threw his book bag into his normal bus seat (the one with the emergency exit) and dug his cell phone out of his jacket pocket. He started an angry text to his Uncle Mike. Later, he’d send one to Aunt Fi and she’d have a solution but right how he just wanted someone to listen: Uncle Mike was good for that.

Charlie shot off the first text for background and was halfway through the second when Emily McDonald dropped her bag on his lap. “Shove over.”

There was no fighting Emily. For the first year they had known each other, she had been his personal bully. Once Uncle Mike had urged Charlie to be her friend and Charlie had made the first overture, she had decided that Charlie was going to be her BFF. Charlie knew when to just surrender. (And they did this every single school day.) He grumbled and scooted closer to the window so that Emily had room. She pushed both of their book bags under the seat in front of them. (He had missed her when she had been out sick last week, but he’d never ever tell her that.) The bus pulled out of the school parking lot and started the normal route home.

“Are you telling your Aunt Fi that science sucks because Mrs. Tilly is a horrible teacher and she –Aunt Fi- needs to teach us something cool so that we will still think chemistry is awesome and not grow up to get liberal arts degrees to become bums or baristas?”

Charlie smirked at her. “I’m working up to it.”

Emily nodded, satisfied and Charlie was pondering the best way to get what he wanted from his Uncle who always thought three or thirty moves ahead of his favorite (and only) nephew. The bus was slowing to a stop and Charlie was absently surprised that they had gotten to the first rider’s house already. Emily gasped and Charlie accidently sent an incomplete message. He looked up to make a scathing remark.

He saw the gun first.

The only though Charlie had was ‘penis compensator.’ Aunt Fi used the term to describe a gun that appeared bigger than its payload delivered.

The woman behind it was demanding kids give up their cell phones and would pistol-whip anyone who challenged her. A man held a gun on the bus driver, demanding he drive. Charlie wanted to tell Mr. Kent, “NO!” They were close enough to the school that another bus would pass them and realize that something was wrong. Mr. Kent should have put them off, delayed leaving, just gone slow. Maybe stalled the bus? Charlie didn’t know how easy it was to stall a bus. If Mr. Kent obeyed the gunman, they would be in charge everywhere else.

Mr. Kent couldn’t hear Charlie Westen’s telepathic thoughts so the boy moved on to contacting the man who could. Uncle Mike swore he wasn’t a receiving telepath, but Charlie wasn’t convinced.

“Give me your cellphone from your dad,” Charlie ordered Emily.

She nodded and dug out both phones out of her coat pocket. Her parents had split about the time Charlie had first met (ran from) Emily and didn’t trust each other. So each parent paid for a cell phone for their only daughter. Emily flipped the pink one around in her hand. She hated pink, but her mom didn’t understand. Charlie put the green one on his lap. It was battered and scraped and she loved it. Charlie thought that it might make a convincing boy’s phone. He was still sending text after text to his Uncle Mike. He told him about the guns (the woman had one and the man up front had two) and that they were collecting cell phones and threatening everyone and the four first graders on the bus were already crying and that the woman had already hit one, making the little girl cry more. That was just not cool.

“Tell me when she gets close enough to see,” Charlie whispered to Emily.

“Turn off your ringer,” she hissed back.

Duh. Yeah. He should do that. It was more important now to have a phone than to get caught with a phone. Charlie silenced his phone and stowed it in his back pocket. Then he tried to look as scared as everyone else. He didn’t feel scared. He nudged Emily. She looked more mad than scared and if the woman thought that she was going to be trouble, she might try to hit Emily and then Charlie would have to defend her. While Charlie was confident that he could surprise the woman enough to disarm her, it was the other (crap) two men with guns that he couldn’t handle. All of the tricks that Uncle Mike, Aunt Fi and Uncle Sam had taught Charlie (and Emily) were more about disabling and running away. They couldn’t run away while on the bus. (Though they were right next to the emergency exit…. Just like Uncle Mike asked them to. But there would have to be a _huge_ distraction for Charlie to be able to push the window out and then jump without anyone getting caught. And Emily had to come too. Charlie wouldn’t leave without Emily.)

And if they ran away, the gunman might start hurting some of the other kids in revenge. Charlie didn’t like everyone on his bus route, but he got sick with the idea that some of them might not be on it tomorrow and it would be his fault.

Whatever Charlie’s face looked like right then, it was enough to convince the lady gunman (gun lady? He’d ask Aunt Fi) that he was not going to be a problem. He handed over Emily’s phone just a meekly as everyone else. The gun lady kept to the back of the bus. One of the gunman was kind of close to Charlie and Emily in the middle of the bus and one gunman stayed next to Mr. Kent, right next to the door.

Charlie was really, really worried. 

He could text without looking at the screen (he might have practiced that in class and that detention was so worth it right now), but the only place to read the text where the gunman couldn’t see would be where Sean Shaker could. Sean was NOT a friend of Charlie’s and he was a tattletale. Sean remembered when Emily had been a bully-bully and didn’t believe/ trust/ whatever her change of heart. Sean would rat them out in a heartbeat, even to (or especially to) really dangerous people holding guns on a school bus full of kids. He was an idiot that way. Charlie didn’t like his choices.

He would wait.

Uncle Mike always said waiting was important and tried to make up some waiting games. (Which were kinda lame, but he would show Charlie and Emily some new self-defense moves if they played along.) So Charlie would wait. He could do it. He really could. He wondered how long he had waited already and knew that it wasn’t as long as it seemed. (Uncle Mike’s lame games were good for that at least.) He wanted to look at a clock, but he didn’t wear a watch since he always had his phone on him. Now he was going to start wearing the watch that Aunt Fi had gotten him for Christmas last year. (It might have been the year before, but Charlie was sure he knew where it was in his room. And since Aunt Fi had bought it, it would never go out of style. And it wasn’t like it was some stupid cheap kid’s watch.) All the kids watched as the gun lady made one of the third graders open his window and then she threw the bag of cell phone out of it. Oh, that was not cool.

The bus slowed and turned and HOLY SHIT _they were going onto the freeway!_ Charlie had to let his Uncle Mike know. He eased his phone out of his pocket and (without looking) texted the route, direction and exit to his Uncle Mike. He brought his phone out long enough to check that it went through. It hadn’t.

Uncle Mike had texted him _four times_ and though Charlie really, really, really wanted to read his uncle’s reassurances, he knew what he had to do. He pulled up the texting screen and put the phone in everyone’s bind spot (including his own) and retyped the road text ’95 N 3A.’ Then he put the phone away. Next time he was texting blind, he’d exit out of everything and then text. He’d learn from his mistakes.

He looked at Emily and realized that she had made sure to be in Sean’s way. She was an awesome best friend and had almost as much playtime with Uncle Mike and Aunt Fi and he did. (And he meant that in the non-gross way not the way that the high schoolers sometimes meant it.) Charlie nudged Emily’s arm and she leaned against him. Charlie wrapped an arm around her and she shook a little, like she did when her parents fought.

“Evelyn,” she whispered.

“What?” Charlie whispered back.

“The lady. Her name’s Evelyn. Rankin and Panesar are the guys. That’s what they called each other.”

Charlie wondered how he was ever going to spell that last name. Or why it mattered.

Emily elbowed him in the ribs. “Your Uncle Sam looks up people,” she hissed. Oh, yeah. He did. Charlie had forgotten that. It just wasn’t as cool as Uncle Mike and Aunt Fi and their talents.

So Charlie watched anyone who might be looking their way. (No one was. Everyone was looking at the gun men like they were tigers escaped from the zoo. And they were in the dangerous way that kids never expected to see in real life. It was a lot scarier than watching TV shows. Charlie might watch cartoons for the rest of the month and none of the mysteries that he normally watched with his grandma.) He dug out his phone, kept it in his blind spot, used the key strokes that would bypass any incoming messages and texted ‘Evelyn. Rankin. Panaser?’ to Uncle Mike. He had learned from his mistakes. Uncle Mike would get it to Uncle Sam. Charlie wasn’t sure he could do it without looking. He put his phone away and hugged Emily tight.

“I’m not a crybaby,” Emily hissed. “And if you act like I am, I’m going to kick your butt the next time we spar.” She would literally kick him in the butt if she felt like it. But then he would do the same to her.

Charlie let her go. “Maybe I needed the hug?” he whispered. He hadn’t but it made Emily smile at him. 

“Crybaby Charlie,” Sean hissed across the aisle. Charlie rolled his eyes at the idiot. Seriously, how had he passed fourth grade? When Charlie looked to Emily for encouragement/ help/ whatever her eyes were kinda wide and confused.

“What?” he mouthed at her.

“A cigarette just hit your window,” she whispered back.

Charlie grinned. He knew he did but he hoped that Sean didn’t see because that would make him really suspicious. Charlie slid over to the window, knowing that he’d see his Uncle Mike. Sure enough Uncle Mike looked to be in a really bad argument with Aunt Fi, full of mad faces and waving arms and rolled down windows as Aunt Fi ‘tried’ to pass the bus. But Aunt Fi and Uncle Mike really didn’t argue like that in real life. They were really still and quiet /scary/ whatever when they were mad at each other for real and they tried to do it when no one could see or hear them. (Charlie had seen it twice and it had made him shake worse than Emily when her parents screamed at each other.) Aunt Fi was speeding up and slowing down, acting like she was paying more attention to her fight with Uncle Mike than driving. She had told him once that women had a reputation for being bad drivers and sometimes she liked to take advantage of it.

Okay. Uncle Mike was _right there_. Which meant that Uncle Mike knew that Charlie was _right here_ and in trouble. And Uncle Mike knew that Charlie had to be careful using the cell phone because he was secretly a telepath. So Charlie needed to know what Uncle Mike knew and not just because he was thinking, ‘ _help help help help. I know you can help us_ ’ really hard. Uncle Mike would figure out some way to communicate with Charlie. Charlie tried to think of all the games they played, if any of them could be used now and he really wanted to text his uncle.

Forget that. He wanted to be able to teleport right into Uncle Mike’s car.

Hey. Hey. _Hey. Charlie had seen that hand tapping in that rhythm before._

Morse code.

Ugh.

Charlie was much much faster than Emily at recognizing the letters (both in Morse code and in fingerspelling in American Sign Language) but Emily was faster at taking the letters and putting them together and understanding what word was being ‘said.’

Charlie waited until Aunt Fi slowed down, casually placed his hand on the seat in front of him where Uncle Mike could see and tapped ‘ready.’ It was actually dash –dot- dash and meant that Charlie was ready to read Uncle Mike’s message.

Aunt Fi sped up and Uncle Mike tapped on the side of the car. Dash –dot –dot –dot. ‘B.’ Dot –dash –dot- dot. Not an ‘F’ but an ‘L.’ Dash –dash –dash. ‘O.’ Dash –dash –dash. ‘O.’ Dash –dot -dot. ‘D.’ Dot –dot –dash –dash –dot –dot. ‘Question.’ Uncle Mike and Charlie had their own little signal to say that they were done transmitting and as soon as Charlie saw that, he started trying to figure out what the letters added up to.

“Blood,” Emily whispered. Charlie looked sharply at her. “You were spelling it out loud, but not too loud.”

Uncle Mike wanted to know if anyone was bleeding. It was easy enough (though scary that that was Uncle Mike’s first question) for Charlie to tap back dash –dot- pause dash –dash –dash. No. At least Charlie didn’t think that the little first grader that the gun lady had hit was bleeding.

Uncle Mike’s next question was ‘g’ ‘u’ ‘n’ ’s’ ‘3’?

Yeah, Charlie hadn’t seen that last gunman before sending off that text. Uncle Mike needed to know that it was worse than Charlie had first thought. He was quick to tap dash –dot- pause dash –dash –dash and then five dots.

Charlie wasn’t surprised when Uncle Mike’s next tap was dot –dash –dash –dot, dot –dash –dash –dot, dot –dash –dot- dot. ‘p’ ‘p’ ‘l.’ Using the combination of old texting language and Morse code. 

“How many kids are on the bus?” Charlie asked Emily as Aunt Fi took her foot off the gas again. Emily leaned back and closed her eyes and thought about it.

The three dots and two dashes were easy to transmit, along with ‘b’ ‘a’ ‘d.’

“Nineteen,” Emily finally whispered.

Okay. Charlie could do that. Dot –four dashes, a pause, and then four dashes and a dot. Then ‘k’ ‘i’ ‘d’ ‘s.’ And then Charlie signaled that he was done tapping.

As much as he hated _hated_ it, he wasn’t surprised when Uncle Mike tapped out ‘understood’ and then ‘wait.’ Charlie was pretty sure that wait was the worst word in the English language.

“Well?” Emily mouthed at him.

“Wait,” he repeated.

She made a face at him and Charlie made a face right back at her. Suddenly a gun was between them and they scampered away from it. Emily nearly fell into the aisle getting away but the woman was standing _right there_.

“You two think this is some kind of fieldtrip,” the gun lady snarled at them. Charlie and Emily shook their heads so fast it hurt. She glared at them and Charlie was scared. Scared that she might know (and hate) Uncle Mike or Aunt Fi or Uncle Sam, scared that she knew Morse code or scared that she was suspicious of the couple that had driven alongside the bus for a couple miles having a pretend argument.

That gun. That Colt 1911 was right in Charlie’s face and he was scared. Uncle Mike had never pointed a gun at Charlie (when you point a gun at a person be prepared to kill them). That gun would make a really big hole in Charlie and there was nothing Uncle Mike could do right now. And that was scarier than the gun ‘cause Uncle Mike was always bigger than the situation and right now he seemed very far away.

Charlie was sure he looked as scared as he felt and that seemed to satisfy the gun lady. She grunted at them. “You two stop playing and know that I don’t care about you. Sending you home in a box sounds like a swell idea to me.” She looked around at all of the kids staring at her. They didn’t understand her, not really, but she was scary. “I hate children,” she said and she really meant it. “Killing each and every one of you would make my day. I get paid for bodies, live or dead, it’s the same price to me.” Now the kids all over were crying. Even Sean’s bottom lip was shaking.

She was really, really scary and Charlie wanted Aunt Fi to come and show her how awesome a lady with a gun could be. Charlie wanted Uncle Mike to save the day, like Grandma always said he did. 

“Get in the seat,” the gun lady told Emily. Emily crawled into the seat with Charlie and this time when Charlie wrapped his arms around his best friend, they both needed it. “If you two keep annoying me, I will kill one of you,” the gun lady threatened.

Charlie and Emily stared at her in fear. Their teachers were always threatening to separate the two of them but this threat was a hundred times worse.

“Do you understand?” she snarled.

Charlie and Emily nodded.

“Good.”

The gun lady stared meanly at Charlie and Emily until they looked down and then, finally, she walked back to the back of the bus. Charlie and Emily held on to one another real tight and didn’t try to whisper anymore.

Charlie looked out his window but Aunt Fi wasn’t driving beside them anymore. Charlie hoped that that meant that Uncle Mike had a plan. He watched the cars passing hoping that maybe Uncle Sam and Jessie might do something. But nothing. They drove through the swamp, that Charlie had always thought kind of exciting and an adventure just waiting to happen. Now, though, it was scary and dark and full of crocs. Mr. Kent was driving too fast for Charlie to push out the emergency window, but right now Charlie would rather crocodiles to the scary gun lady. Mr. Kent pulled off the freeway, west, and deeper into the swamp. Charlie peeked over the seat to see where the scary lady was and she was _right there_ staring at Charlie, waiting for him to do something. Charlie ducked back down and decided not to risk digging his phone out to tell his Uncle Mike about the road change. He would know. Charlie was sure that he would know.

“He’s tracking your phone,” Emily whispered into his neck. “Uncle Sam can do that.”

Oh. Okay. That’s cool. Charlie really hadn’t paid much attention to what Uncle Sam could and couldn’t do, but as soon as they got out of this, he would sit down and listen to Uncle Sam tell all of his stories. (Uncle Sam had _so many stories, they never ended_.) But if that’s what Charlie needed to do so that he would be prepared next time then he would (and Charlie hoped that he would be in high school, at least, next time). Or he would just ask Uncle Mike what Uncle Sam could do right in front of Uncle Sam. That would take less time and it was always funny watching Uncle Mike and Uncle Sam pick on each other.

Thinking of Uncle Mike and Uncle Sam and Aunt Fi and Jesse (he always said that he was too young to be called ‘uncle’) made Charlie less scared. They were his super heroes.

Mr. Kent turned onto another road, even deeper into the swamp and this one wasn’t as well paved as Charlie was used to. It was narrow and full of pot holes that made the kids bounce around in their seats and bump into each other. Emily’s head hit Charlie’s jaw so hard he saw stars.

Charlie quit hugging Emily and that was worse. At the next bump, Emily’s head hit Charlie’s nose and it started bleeding. Ow. Ow! Not cool. Emily tried to help him get it to stop but every bump made it worse. Charlie couldn’t even hold his t-shirt around his nose without hurting it more. He had tears streaming down his face.

“Crybaby Charlie,” Sean whispered, but even that didn’t sound as mean as normal.

The bus started slowing down.

“What’s going on?” the mean lady said.

“Car broke down, it looks like,” said the guy up front. “Looks like an old broad drove too fast into a pot hole and blew a tire.”

“Go around,” the gun lady ordered.

“Can’t. The broad’s car is taking up too much of the road.”

The gun lady said a lot of really bad words. Grandma sometimes said those words but most of the time Uncle Mike told Charlie that he could find a better way of expressing himself than curse words. And then he would teach him Arabic or Spanish or something. (He would never admit it to Uncle Mike, but Arabic had a lot of cool words.) 

The gun lady and the two other gunmen all walked to the front of the bus to see the car in their way. Charlie tried to get his nose to stop bleeding. Emily peeked over the seat. She dropped back immediately, her eyes super wide. 

“It’s your grandma,” she said as quietly as she could.

Charlie didn’t care about his nose anymore. He peeked over the seat and was thankful that all the people were guns were looking the other way. He had to shift to see around them but was rewarded by seeing Uncle Sam’s car and Grandma waving at the adults in the bus.

Mr. Kent opened the door and Charlie was worried that the gun lady would just shoot Grandma and be done with her. Thankfully, the gun lady lied to Grandma and said that they were on a field trip and could she please move her car. There was something wrong with hearing such a mean person say ‘please.’

Grandma said something about needing some strong young men, because it was stuck, good and proper. Charlie knew that tone of voice; Grandma was playing a prank on them. Grandma was good at pranks. Uncle Mike was close. Uncle Mike, Aunt Fi, Uncle Sam and Jesse. They were all close. It was almost over.

Charlie wasn’t surprised that his grandma managed to talk two of the gunmen off the bus to help her. (After all, the bus couldn’t even turn around on this skinny road. The bus was going nowhere with Grandma’s car in the way.) It was only when the gunmen got off the bus and started looking for the best way to move the car that Charlie realized that the gunmen would have to be _on the other side of the car to push_. Most of their bodies would be out of sight. Uncle Mike would get them then.

He wasn’t surprised at all when they vanished with a yell.

The gun lady tried to point her gun (1911 Colt) at Grandma but Grandma put her hand on the gun with a finger under the trigger and pulled the gun lady right out of the bus by her gun. Aunt Fi was right there to punch the gun lady in the nose.

Charlie wasn’t the only one who cheered, just the loudest. He cheered even louder when Grandma punched the gun lady in the eye. Aunt Fi put handcuffs on the scary lady and Uncle Mike and Uncle Sam were pushing the two gunmen –handcuffed- out from behind the car.

His family was seriously too cool. Even his Grandma was a superhero. 

Emily was smiling as big as he was. She was nice enough to let Charlie get out of the seat and run up front. He had to push through a lot of kids that were trying to see if it was safe. (Of course it was safe, his Uncle Mike was out there.) Finally he was up front and walking down the steps and then something wrapped around his neck and something cold was pressed against his head.

The yelling was loud. So loud. Emily screamed his name. Charlie was scared. He was confused. The danger was supposed to be over. He couldn’t breathe well with the thing around his neck. The two gunmen and the scary lady were taken care of so who?

“Nicholas Kent,” Uncle Mike said in that very scary voice of his. 

_Mr. Kent!?!?! His bus driver was a bad guy?_

“I need that money,” Mr. Kent yelled. The cold was still pressing against Charlie’s head and he knew it was a gun. _There was a gun pressed against his head._ There was a _gun_ pressed against his _head_. “Where’s the ransom?” Mr. Kent’s voice was so loud in Charlie’s ear.

There was a pause and seemed to take forever. And ever and ever and ever.

“In the trunk of the car,” Grandma finally said. His family surrounded him. They had never been so close and so far away at the same time.

“If you’re lying to me, I’ll blow the brat’s brains out.”

Charlie couldn’t believe that Mr. Kent was talking about him. He had never done anything to Mr. Kent. Every pause seemed like minutes.

“We’re not lying,” Uncle Mike said, finally. “We have cash in the back of the car.”

“Let me open it,” Jesse offered.

“NO!” Mr. Kent yelled. He pulled Charlie sideways and it was hard to breath. “You don’t move. None of you move.”

Another pause that seemed to take years.

“How do you propose getting the cash?” asked Uncle Mike. How could he be so calm? Charlie was shaking. “You’re hands are… occupied.”

“I notice that you aren’t demanding that we release your friends,” said Aunt Fi. “No honor among crooks.”

“I found them on Craigslist,” Mr. Kent sounded meaner than ever before. “You can hire anyone for anything. It wasn’t hard to find people who would intimidate children for money. I had to turn away applicants. Tons of people hate kids. This whole thing was my idea. Mine! And I need that money! I bussed those privileged little brats every day. I deserve that money.”

“It’s yours,” Uncle Mike promised. But Charlie bet it was a lie. Uncle Mike was never nice to people who hurt his family. He didn’t believe in rewarding bad behavior. “It’s in the trunk of that car there. How do you propose you get to it?”

“Give the boy the keys.”

Uncle Mike stepped forward and Charlie was ready for the rescue but Mr. Kent pressed the gun harder into Charlie’s head. “Stop! Stop right there!”

Uncle Mike held out the keys. “I’m just going to hand the boy the keys.”

“No. Toss them. Throw them at the boy.”

Uncle Mike was staring at Charlie really hard. Really hard, like he was trying to get Charlie to know his thoughts. Suddenly, Charlie was _sure_ he knew what Uncle Mike wanted. Uncle Mike wanted him to _not catch the keys_. Uncle Mike nodded and then lobbed them at Charlie. It was such an easy throw that Charlie should have been able to catch it without thinking. But with Mr. Kent’s arm around Charlie’s throat and the gun pressed against his head, it was easy to fumble and drop the keys.

Mr. Kent swore worse than the scary lady. He pushed Charlie down. “Get them,” he snarled.

Charlie tripped and fell and didn’t even do it on purpose. That must have been the signal Uncle Mike was waiting for because, he jumped Mr. Kent. The gun went off and it was so loud. Right next to his ear. Then Grandma was holding him. He couldn’t hear her voice, but he could smell sugar and cigarettes. It was the best smell ever. She hugged him so tight. He was safe.

He heard the gun go off again.

And then a different gun boomed, but that one was Aunt Fi. She looked _pissed_. 

Charlie tried to twist to see what was happening but Grandma was holding him too tight. “No, hon.” Her voice was firm. “You don’t need to see that.”

“Uncle Mike?” Charlie whispered.

“I’m fine, Charlie.” Uncle Mike wrapped an arm around Charlie and rested his head on Charlie’s.

“You are not fine,” Grandma argued. “You have a gunshot wound. Let Fi and Sam take care of you.”

Charlie pushed away from Grandma. This he had to see. Uncle Mike had blood all over his arm and Aunt Fi was fussing. Jesse had already gotten the first aid kit from the car.

Uncle Mike wasn’t looking at his wound. He wasn’t looking at Aunt Fi or Grandma. He was looking at Charlie. He smiled this time when their eyes met. “I am proud of you, Charlie. You did everything right.”

“Not everything,” Charlie argued. “I still haven’t read your text messages.”

Uncle Mike smiled even more. “It wasn’t safe,” and he said it like it was a fact he knew all along and not a guess. Seriously, Uncle Mike knew everything. Telepath. Hadn’t Charlie just gotten his unvoiced order?

Charlie did nod. “They were watching.”

“You did the right thing.” He sighed. Looking up at the bus windows. Every kid on his route was peeking out. Charlie caught Emily’s eye and she gave him a thumbs up. “Sam?”

Uncle Sam was done wrapping Uncle Mike’s arm. How had Uncle Mike not winced at that? “Yeah, Mike?”

“You’re driving the bus. Jesse, move the car. We’ll pack the kidnappers in it after we get the kids on their way home.”

“What are we going to do with the trash?” Sam asked as he kicked the one of the gunman. It seemed mean to kick someone tied up on the ground, but these were the same people that tried to hurt a bunch of kids. “Leave them for the crocs deeper in the swamp?”

“I like that plan,” Aunt Fi told Uncle Mike. She even fluttered her eyelashes like that would convince Uncle Mike.

“No,” Uncle Mike said and all of his friends pouted. “I think we can work something out. Ma, I need you on the bus to get everyone home. You too, Charlie.”

Charlie stepped away from Grandma and rushed to hug Uncle Mike. “I knew you would come,” he whispered.

“I’ll always come,” Uncle Mike promised. He shifted and stepped and herded Charlie towards the bus. Charlie saw what Uncle Mike was trying to hide: Mr. Kent, dead, with a big hole in his chest and his eyes staring up at the sky.

Charlie shivered and didn’t mind if Aunt Fi wrapped him in a hug and made it so that he couldn’t see Mr. Kent anymore. “You saved your friends, you know that, right?” she pulled back to make sure Charlie knew she was serious.

“You and Uncle Mike and _Grandma_ saved…”

Aunt Fi shook Charlie gently. “No. _You_ saved your friends.” She stared at him and shook her head. She used her sleeve to wipe his face. It came away bloody. Oh, yeah, he had forgotten about the bloody nose.

“Emily did that,” he told her.

“He’s just like you, Michael,” Aunt Fi complained.

“No, he’s not,” Grandma argued.

Charlie watched as Grandma and Aunt Fi argued and he wasn’t sure who he wanted to be right. Uncle Mike was awesome but also scary and he was smart enough and tough enough to take on adult bullies all the time. 

Jesse rubbed his head. “You did good, kid.”

“Ma!” Uncle Mike yelled, interrupting the argument. “Their parents are very worried.”

“No worries,” Uncle Sam said. “I called my buddy in the FBI and they are on their way and willing to look the other way as to the capture of the kidnappers, since they’ll get the credit. They’ll be escorting us back to town, before we hit I-95.”

Grandma wrapped an arm around Charlie again and pulled him toward the bus. “We need to get you back home too. Your mother is probably worried sick.”

Charlie shrugged. Yeah, his mother was probably worried but…

He let Grandma direct his steps as he turned his head to see Jessie and Aunt Fi and Uncle Mike work together to get all of the bad guys into the back of Uncle Sam’s car. Hey! How had they fixed the flat tire so fast?

He realized that he couldn’t see Mr. Kent’s dead body anymore, which meant no one else on the bus saw it either. He had a feeling it was intentional. Everything Uncle Mike did seemed intentional. Grandma pulled him up the steps and Uncle Sam started the bus. Emily tackled him in a real hug.

“Everyone aboard?” he yelled. “You all get in your seats,” he said to Charlie’s classmates. Charlie and Emily were the first ones to obey because they knew that Uncle Sam meant it. “We’re going home.”

The whole bus cheered.

***

Charlie dropped into bed exhausted. He had never been so tired in his life. It was so odd, listening to the FBI agents say that they had saved the day. He had been mad until Grandma told him that Uncle Mike and the rest were _secret agents_. No one could know that they were saving people or they couldn’t help the next person in trouble. 

As if Uncle Mike could get any cooler! He was more than a trouble shooter; he was a _secret agent_. 

And everyone on his bus knew that his whole family was superheroes, even his Grandma. They knew the truth and it didn’t matter what the TV people said. Even his mom believed the TV people.

Charlie dragged himself to bed and under the covers. 

But when he closed his eyes all he could see was Mr. Kent and that bloody hole and those eyes that would never see again. He opened his eyes. Tired but not wanting to sleep. This was going to be bad and he didn’t think his mom would understand.

He wanted Uncle Mike or Grandma. He was crying and didn’t know why or how to stop. He was safe now. He wiped the tears away angrily. Now was not the time to cry.

He wondered if he would be able to sneak out of his room and get his cell phone off the charger in the hall. He pressed the button on his watch (from Aunt Fi, exactly where he had stashed it and he would wear it forever). It was midnight. Uncle Mike wouldn’t mind if he called.

Maybe Charlie should try to sleep? At least more than one time. Nope. All he saw was Mr. Kent. He tossed and turned and this time he saw the crazy lady pointing the gun right at Charlie’s face. Charlie sat up in bed.

“It’s okay, Charlie.”

“Uncle Mike?”

A shadow moved by Charlie’s window. “I’m here. I’ll stay until morning.”

Charlie laid back down. “You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Can you come closer, like, sit on the bed?”

Uncle Mike came and sat on Charlie’s bed and wrapped an arm around his nephew and drew him close. Charlie closed his eyes and smelled safe. “You knew I needed you.”

“I wanted to be sure you weren’t having any ill affects from the day.”

“I knew you were a telepath,” Charlie murmured.

Charlie fell asleep to his Uncle Mike laughing quietly. He would have nightmares, but he would also have his Uncle Mike to chase them away.

***


End file.
